


Do As You're Told

by pippen2112



Series: Go Back to Sleep Series [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Begging, Captivity, Dildos, Dom/sub Play, Drugged Sex, Edging, Erotic Electrostimulation, Forced Orgasm, Gangbang, Glory Hole, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, RvB Smut Week, Slut Shaming, Verbal Humiliation, electro - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Locus takes the time to review Wash's training.  A touch to enthusiastically.Written for AU Day of RvB Smut Week 2018PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS, THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.





	Do As You're Told

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inthrall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthrall/gifts).



> Special thanks to inthrall for inspiring this series and continuing to shout at me to ensure its continued updates. And to the trend of putting Wash in a box. That in no way inspired this installment. Also a big shoutout to AriRashkae for suggesting the electro-play addition which helped unstick this story.
> 
> Please, please, *please* mind the warnings. If I've missed any tags, please let me know.

Wash wakes to familiar footsteps stalking up the hall. He blinks, the haze of the drugs thin but ever present. The last dose must have been a big one because he’s only tied by his wrists and ankles, hobbled by a decent length of rope. Not enough to have his full range of motion, but it’s decidedly more freedom than the mercs have given him before. If it weren’t for those footsteps, he’d think it was just time for his next dosage. But those footsteps. All the hundreds of pirates on this base, and only one of them walks like that: soft as a cat creeping through a field, but powerful and unrelenting as a hurricane. 

The cell door slides open, and Wash rolls onto his stomach, pushes back onto his knees and lifts his ass. _“A proper greeting for a whore,”_ Felix had called it when they’d first taught him these positions. If drugging someone higher than a kite and smacking them around when they don’t immediately snap into a perfect position counts as “teaching”. Wash has grown to almost like this position. It gives him another couple minutes to wrangle his expression into something unreadable.

Those slow, methodical footsteps slide into the cell, and a cold, armored hand sweeps up his flank. Even though it happens every goddamn day, Wash flinches. 

An agitated huff. “You disappoint me, Washington,” Locus growls. “Count.”

Locus spanks him hard and fast. No build-up. No wavering. Wash chokes out his count as Locus turns his ass red. It would be easier if his cock didn’t start twitching around hit four. If beads of precum didn’t eek out every time he mutters “thank you, sir.” But when has his body ever behaved itself?

By the time he counts ten, his arousal has burned through his sleep haze. He’s raw and ragged, swallowing the impulse to groan. _Keep it together. Remember where you are. Why you’re here._ He sucks in a breath, trying to get himself back under control. 

But Locus rubs his ass, and Wash’s chest tightens. “Will you cooperate today?”

Wash shudders. _Will you give up everything you know about the reds and blues? Will today be the day you betray them?_ “Nope. Not feeling it.”

Locus huffs. “Very well. We’ll run through your positions since you need a refresher.” The helmet intercom warps his voice. It shouldn’t send a flare of warmth into Wash’s gut, but surprise, surprise. _Why do I even bother trying anymore?_ “Back cuff.”

Wash tries to pull his arms to the small of his back, but the tether catches around his hips, too short for him to complete the order. But Locus only hums. “Table.”

Exhaling, Wash props himself up onto his hands and knees, keeping his back firm. He hates this position, mostly because Felix actually uses him as a chair when he comes to check on Wash. After too many weeks of drugged imprisonment and muscle atrophy, Wash can barely keep himself upright, much less hold the weight of a full grown man. But Locus at least has a vague inclination of his limitations; he may not respect said limits, but Locus doesn’t set him up to fail. Usually.

“Kneel present.”

He pushes back and sits up on his knees. Thighs spread, hand crossed in his lap, back straight, head ducked, and eyes down-turned. Like a dog sitting at attention.

For too long, Locus stand in front of him, staring. Wash can’t see even the tips of his boots across the room, but he knows. After enough one on one sessions with Locus, he knows what the merc expects, how he behaves when Felix isn’t there to egg him on. With Locus, all he needs to do is follow orders and take his pills, and he’ll be left alone. _Blessedly alone_.

“Close.”

Wash rolls his hips slightly so his cock and balls drop below his legs before he brings his knees together. The motion alone gets his mouth watering. Stupid pavlovian conditioning at its finest, especially when Locus steps forward, straddling his legs until his groin hovering near Wash’s forehead.

“Worship.”

Clamping his throat shut around a groan, Wash leans up and smothers his face against Locus’s codpiece. The metal is cold against his lips, unfeeling and unyielding. He can smell the tang of metal and lubricant and beneath those, the faintest hints of musk. Squeezing his eyes closed, he runs his tongue over the curving metal, hating how his blood rushes south. His dick swells, trapped between his thighs with nowhere to go. Nothing to do but throb unhelpfully. 

Overhead, Locus grunts. He grabs a handful of Wash’s hair and rolls his hips forward. And suddenly Wash can reach another nook or cranny he had missed before. Wash can’t help himself. He whimpers. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

Wash nods, squirming to lap each new nook while maintaining his position. But when Locus steps aside and yanks Wash back by his hair, his whimper turns into a full whine. He sounds more pathetic than Tucker on Leg Day. His stomach twists. _Fuck, shouldn’t have thought about Tucker_.

“You know these debasements bring me no pleasure, Washington. When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Understood?”

Ears ringing, Wash shudders. He wishes he could drop his head to hide his embarrassment, but Locus keeps his grip firm. Keeps him staring up at that inhuman helmet, and fuck, that _really_ should be more than enough to make the blood drain out of his cock. “Yes…” he hesitates and adds, “Yes, sir.”

Locus’s fist tightens, the pinpricks of pain like lightning in a drought-stricken forest. Wash bites his tongue, but his moan still slips out. Locus cups his face with his other hand. He strokes his thumb along Wash’s cheekbone, the glove catching against his burgeoning beard. “Good boy,” Locus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Wash bucks forward, his thighs still clamped tight to hide his groin. _Follow orders._ That’s what Locus likes. _Do as you’re told._ Cheeks burning, Wash looks up at him and gulps. “I want to suck your cock.” Locus angles his head slightly but stays quiet for a few seconds. Long enough Wash can’t stop himself from elaborating. From begging. “Please. I want to taste you. Wanna smell you,” he admits, his voice dropping lower and lower with each word until he’s barely whispering. “Wanna make you feel good, sir.”

All at once, Locus releases him, letting Wash slump forward for a few seconds before he remembers himself and pushes back into position. His hips twitch, his heart bounding in his chest, and his mouth wet with hope that maybe, maybe, Locus will actually let him off easy today. Just a blowjob or a face fuck. Something quick and simple. Something he can lose himself in, at least for a few minutes.

Locus takes a half step back, his head perfectly still, but Wash can feel his eyes trailing over every naked inch of him. “Behave, and you will be rewarded.”

Wash nods, his breath catching in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Locus leans down, withdraws a knife, and cuts the rope tethering Wash’s hands. Where had he been keeping that? Wash watches Locus stand and tucks the knife away behind his back, but he can’t make out where. _Too slow. Again._ “Expose. Now.”

Wash gulps. Fuck, he _hates_ this position. Hates that it tests his strength and flexibility. Hates how he can’t keep his eyes on the threat in front of him. Hates that he has to trust them. Nevertheless, he props his elbows on the floor behind him, spreads his knees, and arches his back into a bow. His head hangs, and Wash forces himself to breathe slow and even. If even one of the mercs is focused on him, they’re not focused on hunting down his team.

For what feels like ages, Wash is nothing but strain. Eyes squeezed shut. Limbs struggling to hold the position. Then footsteps approach on his left, and something firm presses against the small of his back. “Give me your weight,” Locus commands.

And Wash is too overworked and overwhelmed to bother resisting. He collapses into Locus’s thigh, breathing hard and fast. In the meantime, Locus tugs the glove off his left hand and teases his fingers up and down Wash’s side. Delicate and precise and never where Wash wants them. 

“Hold,” Locus says. He gives Wash a few seconds to support himself before dropping his leg away and working his hand hand and fast around Wash’s cock. 

Wash grits his teeth, forces himself to stay still and maintain position, but it’s not often the mercs actually touch his dick. Sure, Felix likes to rile him up and laugh as his cock twitches and wobbles, but Locus usually pretends his cock is little more than an accessory. A nuisance, even. And now, he’s surrounded by hot, slick friction, and it’s all he can do not to thrust up into each pump. As if this position wasn’t taxing enough.

Locus’s knee grazes this spine, but he doesn’t dare drop early. Even if his muscles are ready to give out. Even if he’s read to bare his neck and beg for mercy. Luckily, Locus saves him from the horror. “And relax.”

Without hesitation, Wash goes limp, hanging over Locus’s leg like a used up slut. His hips jerk forward, seeking out _more, more, more_ friction for his cock. Instead, Locus lightly trails his fingers over Wash, up to the glans, down to the testes and beyond. Back and forth, so light and tender Wash can’t stop the whines and keens slipping out of his mouth.

“Hold.”

Wash groans but forces himself onto his elbows and knees.

It goes on and on. Over and over. Hold and relax, never quite long enough for Wash’s body to fail him. Never long enough for him to recover. Never a pause in the teasing. Locus just ratchets the tension higher and higher and drags him along for the ride. 

The next time he flops down over Locus’s thigh, Wash’s legs are trembling. His heart is beating so loud in his ears it nearly drowns out Locus’s words. “Something wrong, Washington? Can’t keep up the pace.”

“No, sir.”

“You’re hardly the soldier you pretended to be in the canyon. Or around the Federal Army,” Locus says as he slowly, tenderly cups Wash’s balls, rolling them in his palm. “If I wanted to crush these, you’d be helpless to stop me.”

Wash bites back a whine. Barely.

Locus angles his head, slowly tightening his hand. Wash’s breath sticks in his chest. If he weren’t so worn out, he’d squirm away from the pressure. Instead, he can only lay there and take whatever Locus demands.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Wash shakes his head.

Growling, Locus leans over him. Close. Closer than Wash has ever seen him. “Use your words. And stop lying.”

Wash swallows hard, but he can’t find his voice. Can’t make himself say the words. Can only lay back and take whatever Locus dishes out at him. Whatever he thinks Wash deserves. 

“Hold.”

“Please,” Wash pleads weakly. “Please, sir, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

Breathing hard, Wash whimpers. “I can’t. If you….” His lips tremble so hard he can’t get the words out. “I’ll come.”

“Not without permission,” Locus say, low and menacing and so close Wash would feel the warmth of his breath if it weren’t for his helmet. “Do as you’re told, Washington. Back into position. Hold.”

Choking back his tears, Wash props himself up and braces. Without Locus holding him up, the world spirals away from him. His weak little grasp on reality is slipping. Then Locus strokes him, and fire lights up behind his eyes. Want and need and urgency. His own cries and pleas echo through the cell, echoing back on him and making him squirm into the touch. More, more, more, but it’s too much to endure.

“Beg all you want, Washington,” Locus snarls, twisting his hand harshly around Wash’s glans. “It won’t save you. It won’t save them. Accept your fate with whatever dignity you have left. However much a whore has.”

Wash cries out, his muscles tensing up as his vision whites out. He comes back to himself, naked and sprawled across his armored enemy’s lap, streaks of cold cum striping his chest. Fuck, he just… he just…

He goes rigid.

“How disappointing,” Locus says before he drags Wash to his knees by his hair. Before Wash can catch up with the abrupt change in position, there’s a pair of bitter pills in his mouth, and he’s swallowing.

In no time at all, the corners of his vision darken, and Locus hauls him over his shoulder. “It appears you require drastic measures.”

#

_… Pressure on his ears … Friction on his skin … Heaviness in his ass …_

_… Fingers numb … Toes cold … Everything’s cold …_

_His eyes are heavy, but he manages to force them open … Darkness all around him, and a bright circle blinding him. He ducks his head. A bell twinkles above him. But he can’t look up. There’s a ceiling in his way …_

_… Blinks slowly … He’s stuck in something … Something solid and dim … Three spots of light on his chest … a pair of silver clamps on his nipples … the chains leading to the smaller light spots … His groin tied up like a present … the head poking out, eager to be unwrapped …_ Fucking dick.

_He tries to shift his weight, but ropes bind his legs together, keep his hands tethered in place at eye level … Keep his tied to the great big weight spreading him wide … a dildo …_ At least you’ve got something to keep you occupied _… His groin pulses unhelpfully._

_… Something clicks in his ear … “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”_

_… His head drops forward again … The bell startles him back upright … So much for dozing back off and waiting out the haze … Not if Felix has any say in the matter …_

_“Oh, chin up, Washy. Locus told me all about your progress today. Begging to suck him off. Big step forward, especially for you.”_

_… If only he didn’t sound so mocking … it’s nice to be praised …_ Once in a while _… A whine slips out …_

_“And then you had to go fuck it up.” Felix tsks. “I mean, really, what were you thinking?”_

Am I … supposed to answer that?

_“Felix,” Locus cuts in … doesn’t sound happy … Wash flinches …_

_Felix scoffs. “I’m not the one who got caught up in the moment and let him get off.”_

_… Another growl …_

_“Anyway, by now I’m sure you’ve realized your predicament. Locus and I got you trussed up in what we’re calling Wash’s Fuck Box, something I’m hoping makes many,_ many _more appearances. You’ve probably noticed the opening in front of you, but you may not know there are two similar holes by your hands. Go ahead and give them a feel for me.”_

_… His fingertips find the edges … brush something warm just beyond the rim …_

_“Good boy. Now, if you’ll look to your right arm, you’ll notice we left you a little gift.” … He squints through the dimness … there’s something taped to his bicep, a tube leading up toward the ceiling … “That little IV has another double dosage ready to be administered in just under an hour. You want to put off getting turned into a sex-crazed zombie? I suggest you start working. And don’t worry, Washy, we’ll be keeping an eye on you. Don’t believe me? Look up and to your left.”_

_…_ Follow orders _… He looks into the corner … sees the dim reflection of light off a lens and a taunting red light …_ Smile, you’re on TV _… His throat constricts … More bells …_

_… “I don’t understand,” he grits out, struggling to form each word. “What do I—”_

_He cuts himself off as something blocks out the light in front of him. As something thick pushes through the hole and pushes against his lips. He smells musk. His mouth waters._

_“You begged for cock, Washington,” Locus says, low and deep. “So suck.”_

_His mouth drops open … his tongue guides in the first dick … hot and slick and long enough to touch the back of his throat …_

_Felix chuckles. “Get through enough of them, and maybe Locs will let you have a go on him.”_

_… He flushes and strains forward, choking himself … Tongue firm and quick against the underside … throat tensing around the head with every thrust … Warmth against his palms … He grabs each dick, works them despite his bindings … sweeps a thumb up under the glans … fists each dick a little tighter …_

_… The first cock releases, pulls out of his mouth and sprays across his face … Keens fills his ears … he thought it would take a little longer … but someone else steps up to the hole … A fresh dick … His hips roll backward … the dildo thick and just shy of his prostate … but he doesn’t have the room to lift off it …_

_“What’s the matter, Washy? Wish we’d rented out your ass too?” Felix says, his voice sharp. And suddenly, a shock jolts up his spine. He yelps._ The dildo! _Felix only laughs. “Gotta give the men something to come back for. Can’t give it all away, no matter how much you wanna splay yourself in the mess hall and offer free rides.”_

_… Ears burning … Fuck, why does the thought make him suck harder? What does that say about him?_

_… Another zap, too strong to be anything but painful …_

_“Next time, we should install an ass-cam,” Felix suggests offhandedly. “Put it up on screen so the guys in line can see how much he likes it. I mean, an ass is an ass, right Locus?”_

_Moaning … He’s moaning … One of the cocks in his hand spills, another pushes into the still warm spunk … The dick pulls from his mouth and rubs against his cheek … And all he can do is take it …_

_His dick twitches, and he grinds down against the dildo … Another jolt._ Fucking electricity _…_

_… “What a pretty cock slut,” Felix coos._

_“You’re not finished yet. Keep going,” Locus commands._

_Wash sucks harder … takes every load spilled in him and on him … he hopes it’s enough … that the mercs don’t dope him … not again … but how do you keep time when the world keeps fading in and out of focus … when all that’s left is flesh and fire and want …_

… You can’t …

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions, questions, comments and concrit all welcome! Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.com)


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